That Shadow
by Zipper Whippersnapper
Summary: It's wandering away from there - they won't make it home, and they're trying to find it in themselves to car about that. Fighting for one's life can take a lot out of someone. A series of songfics dedicated to the Survivors of 'The Way.' REVIVAL, PEOPLE.


_Hey ya'll – Zipper Whippersnapper here with an exciting announcement. For those who may know, I started writing a submit-your-OC fanfiction known as __The Way__ a while ago; I sort of left it hanging but now I'm going to attempt to bring it back. However, I'm reverting to a drabble-style in order to slowly bring the characters back to life._

_This fic is my start – it's the standard "pick up a radio/mp3 player and write a single drabble for every song that plays" meme. If you have an inkling of who the characters are, enjoy their resurrection; if you don't know who the hell I'm writing about, you can either read __The Way__ or enjoy these as simple OC-Survivor oneshots. To be honest, I don't think that that has an appeal for anyone, but…ah well._

_Feedback on this will determine whether I bring the story back or not, so if you've got an opinion I'd love to hear it! Flames, critiques, comments – all are welcome. :) _

**Sympathy for the Devil – The Rolling Stones**

The Infection might have been lying in wait for years, lingering in the common illnesses of the human race and waiting for a chance mutation – like Swine Flu, a few years ago – to bring it up to its full, deadly potential. Perhaps it was an act by foreign, malevolent governments; the newest weapon of mass destruction and a weapon that had been gladly aimed at the United States and let loose, transforming the mild-mannered citizens of the illustrious country to snarling automatons. The FDA and CEDA might have been the ones to blame; some vaccine might have gone horribly, horribly wrong and unleashed this tide of violence on the earth because of a simple, horrible mistake. Some graffiti that adorned the surfaces of the few remaining safe houses refuted all of those claims, stating that God had raptured his chosen ones at last and was punishing the remaining sinners that remained on Earth.

As Cassidy smirked and put a bullet in the head of the Infected charging right for her, she found that she really didn't care that much – zombies were zombies.

**Brown-Eyed Girl – Van Morrison**

Otto had thought about leaving with his friends for California, believe it or not – school had been let off because of the infection and his roommate had somehow managed to get his hands on another rental car, big enough to hold everyone and with the gas mileage necessary for the trip. It really had been a good idea; what better to beat the newest reports of this killer flu with than warm sand, not-quite-cold water and that bright South Californian sun, so strong even in the late fall. They'd wash their hands in the surf and let the warmer wind carry away their worries and occasional coughs, laughing with the brown- and blue-eyed girls and ignoring warnings to keep away from people with pale eyes – CEDA could suck it, as far as he was concerned. It would have been a welcome break from all that studying.

_It would have been a great idea_, Otto thought when he found himself cowering in that safe room, the tinny blasts from the radio ultimately failing to remind him of that vacation that never was. _A really nice idea._

The hammering of pale, bloodied fists on the splintering door reminded him vaguely of the crashing sounds of waves on rocks and beach sand; the splashes and laughter of those pale-eyed, brown-eyed girls.

**Ramble On – Led Zeppelin**

"Anyone notice how pretty the leaves look around this time of year?" Dave smiled, jerking a thumb out of the driver's-side window at the towering oak. "Orange and yellow and red – ain't it nice?"

Cassidy rolled her eyes and glared at Dave from her position in the back of the ice-cream truck, a crumpled map spread out on her lap. "Yeah, it's real _purdy_, Dave. Shut up and drive, would you? We've got to reach a town or something by nighttime." Momentarily tracing the red line of a road with a manicured nail, she muttered under her breath, "Goddamn redneck."

Dave just snickered and glanced in the rear-view mirror, catching one last glimpse of the aging tree as the truck kept rolling on at its steady pace. "That's a real nice-looking tree, that's all I'm saying. You've got to appreciate the little things, right?"

"Yeah – like _being alive_."

Charlie grimaced. "Oh shut it, Cassidy. Can't you –"

"Pipe down, Charlie. Nobody asked you."

"yeah, just like nobody freaking asked_ you_ –"

Dave sighed, pressing on the accelerator with one wide foot as the two women in the back began bickering. _Now_ he had a reason to get there quickly – wherever _there_ was.

**Jumpin' Jack Flash – The Rolling Stones**

Dave growled to himself, cramming the nozzle of the gas can into the awaiting opening of the ice cream truck and tilting the precious container slightly. Around him, the howls and bellows of the infected increased in volume – combined with the cheery tinkling of the Mr. Softee truck, the entire scene seemed to surreal for words. "This is like somethin' outta a goddamn cartoon – Cass, you watch that Charger!"

The voice of the woman cut into the distinctive cry, accompanied by the double blast of a shotgun. The Charger cried out in pain and slammed into a nearby streetlight, denting the metal pole and slumping at the foot of it like a busted piñata; its withered arm flailed comically for a millisecond before being trapped under its massive girth. "I got it! Just pour the damn gas!"

"I'm doin' just that!"

Another shotgun blast, another shrieking cry of enraged pain. "Pour faster, then! They're fucking coming full force now, and we've got to get –"

"_Get the fuck out of the way!"_ Charlie came sprinting around the ice cream truck, a beeping silver object and red canister in hand. Both Dave and Cassidy sidestepped, the lawyer quickly halting her compulsive squeezing of the shotgun's trigger in order to avoid shooting her teammate – Dave swore quietly and continued to pour the precious gasoline into the tank. There – only one more and they could drive out of this hellhole –

The teen's eyes were wide and oddly flat – some gobbets of red, viscous matter streaked through her hair and pasted it into a hardened bowl against her head. Her gun nearly fell out of its makeshift holster as she whirled mid-run and threw the pipe bomb down a nearby alley; the Horde close on her heels changed course to follow the bouncing red light. Dropping the final gas can – _thank god, the last one,_ Dave thought – next to the truck, she pulled out her grimed pistol and began picking off the other Infected alongside Cassidy. "Pour, Dave, pour!"

"I know, I know, I've almost – got it!" Tossing the emptied canister aside, the Louisiana native sprinted around the length of the car, his fellow teammates piling into the back of the vehicle as he turned the key in the ignition. After a few moments of heart-stopping stalling, the engine roared to life and they drove away, the snarling forms of the Infected screaming after them.


End file.
